


Stay with Me

by mirilik



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: But whatever, Cute, Established Relationship, Fluff, Louis is sick, M/M, Nothing serious, and harrys a dick for a short time, and zayns cute, because im not up for thise, but - Freeform, but he isnt acutally, but just like a cold, cuddly, fluffy fluff, happy end, i just love louis okay, i started writing this before the whole zayn breakdown, whatever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-20 06:45:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3640623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mirilik/pseuds/mirilik
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis knows that he probably shouldn't work while coming down with a cold. But Louis being Louis ignores every logical and responsible thought and gives these interviews anyways. And the fact that Harry's not there to comfort him, doesn't particularly make it better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stay with Me

**Author's Note:**

> This is fiction and as the usual pure fluff from my side.
> 
> hope you like it a bit.  
> :)

“Ouch!”, Louis sighs heavily as he plops down on one of the couches in their backstage area. 

They, Liam and him, just filmed the third interview in a row for promoting “FOUR”. Normally, three interviews aren’t that big of a problem and the venue they’re currently filming at has a rather chilled atmosphere as well. So, no biggie. And it’s for their fourth album, the one with some of the most important and meaningful songs Louis has ever written, on it.  
It’s actually pretty great that he’s doing the interviews with Liam. He’s the one after all, Louis wrote most of the songs with. Of course he likes having someone with him in an interview with any of the boys, but it always gets another twist in the conversation, depending who’s sitting in front of the journalist.  
With Liam, he gets the chance to actually talk about the writing progress, about the interesting facts of producing an album and to show how much input they really had on this album.

It’s the first album they actually call theirs. Not that they hated the former ones, but… it’s different with this one. 

With Niall, he would just have a lot of laughing and stupid innuendoes while trying to keep up some of the informations they are meant to bring across in the interview.

With Zayn they’d all be so comfortable and chill that they probably wouldn’t even talk about their own music but more about other musicians they loved at the moment.

And with Harry… well. It’s pretty unlikely from the beginning, that Louis would ever be alone with Harry in an interview or even somewhere else in public. He’s got the strong feeling that the one interview in Paris Louis and Harry did was way enough for Modest!. Shame, really, that was a fun one. 

Although he still blushes everytime he sees a small snippet somewhere flying over a screen. 

Well, but other than this obvious reason, Harry wouldn’t be here for an interview anyways, still doing some work of his own in LA. Louis could burst. He’s so full of pride of his fiancé. He sees how happy and giddy Harry gets, every time someone actually buys and uses one of his lyrics. Louis thinks that it might let Harry feel even more like a “proper musician”, being thrown into all of this by such a young age. And he understands, he does, because he feels this rush of happiness in his body every single time they decide to use one of his songs for their own albums. 

Nevertheless is Louis sad. Or, not sad, but. Shit, he just misses Harry so much. Misses him more with every second and minute he has to be without him, even after four years of practically living in each other’s pockets. 

But that’s just how they are and Louis really never wants to change that.

So normally such a “marathon” of interviews and the constant dull feeling of _missing_ isn’t too bad for Louis. Of course it’s not ideal but he can manage. 

It’s just this time he somehow twisted his back in a shitty angle a few days ago and actually feels like a fucking old man right now. And the fucking cold, he’s seeming to come down with right now isn’t helping either.

And well, Louis’ just a man. A man who misses his fiancé and wishes some soothing kisses and lovely words to heal him. 

He sighs again. Sadly, complaining doesn’t really help.

“Back’s still sore?”, Liam asks, eyebrows raised, while he cautiously sits down next to his bandmate.

“Hurts like a bitch”, Louis mumbles and tries to press his hand against the hurting part. His arms are too short, of fucking course.

He hears a little chuckle from his left and casually flips the bird towards the noise.

“You sound like an eighty-year-old”, Alberto continues to laugh, completely ignoring the twenty-two-year-old. 

Louis answers with a loud sneeze.

“You actually sound like a kitten when you sneeze, did someone ever tell you?”, Liam jumps in again with a smug smile on his face and Louis really wants to hit him, but every little movement of his body causes a pang of pain. So he ignores him.

“I do remember Harry telling, that Louis also purrs like one when he’s sleepy”, Alberto says and now Liam really starts laughing.

“Remind me why I actually call you my friends?”, Louis snaps finally, grabbing a tissue from the table in front of him. 

Liam’s laugh falters a bit into a light chuckle and he pets Louis’ leg a few times, before he stands up and grabs his vibrating phone to answer the call, probably from Sophia. “Not much of a choice, have ya?”, he asks, and before Louis can get really pissy towards him, leaves the room.

 

 _“pls put ur shoes away for once in ur life will ya?!”_ , Louis reads as kind of good morning text from his fiancé, when he rolls out of the bed the next morning.

“Sure, love you too”, Louis mumbles, already in a more than shitty mood. He understands that Harry is annoyed by Louis’ habit of leaving his shoes in front of the door, so everybody practically _has_ to trip over them while coming into the house but still. It’s not that Louis just started doing it a week ago (not that Harry then would even know, considering that he’s in America for about three weeks now) and Harry just knows that Louis isn’t the most organized person when talking about household and stuff.  
So the short request, send through a text in the middle of the night (London time) and without a little “Hey Lou” or a short “Love you” let Louis feel even shittier than before. 

Something’s up with Harry, he’s pretty sure. He’s probably stressed or something’s not going by plan or such a thing. But, really, that wasn’t Louis’ problem. 

And alright, now he’s not only feeling bad because of the throbbing pain behind his forehead or the fairly impersonal message but also because of his thoughts. Of course it is Louis’ problem as well. Harry’s problems are Louis’ and vice versa. That’s part of the deal of their relationship. They want to keep each other happy, because it makes themselves happy. 

And fuck, Louis loves Harry more than anything else in the world, of course he’s concerned.

So he ignores his running nose and the pain and types an answer.

_“evrythings alright baby? love you.”_

_“ye. just do it k”_

The frown on Louis’ face deepens while he reads Harry’s answer. He tried, okay? And if Harry doesn’t want to talk about it, Louis can’t help anyways. Not from four million miles away. 

So he pulls Harry’s jumper - the one Louis placed on the bed yesterday night on Harry’s side because he’s a pathetic shit - over his head and makes his way to the hallway, to put his shoes away. 

He, once again, ignores the throbbing pain in his head and back and shoves his two pair of worn out vans into the small coat room next to the stairs. 

“‘tis not even that bad”, he mutters under his breath before he heads towards the kitchen. He needs loads of tea to survive this day full of two radio interviews, one for some YouTube celebrity channel and three more for some newspapers and online reports. 

While sipping on his first cuppa of Yorkshire tea Louis asks himself why all the journalists can’t just copy from each other, going by the fact that they prepare the same questions anyways.

 

“Shit, Lou, you’re fucking burning”, Zayn mumbles concerned, after he placed his hand on Louis’ heated face. 

“I know”, Louis just mumbles, voice hoarse. He barely manages to suppress a heavy fit of coughing. Really, there are two interviews and a fotoshoot (a spontaneous idea of one of the magazines, screw them) left and all Louis really wants to do, is fall into his bed and cuddle under the covers. Or maybe above them. He’s not quite sure, his temperature seeming to increase and drop in a not explainable series. One second he wants to rip off all of his clothes and in the next he wants to ask for at least three blankets and preferably a cuddly fiancé by his side. 

“Can’t you take him home?”, Zayn now asks Paul and Alberto who once again observe the whole scenery around Louis. 

Alberto says nothing, just looks at Paul who nods, shortly and whips out his phone, to probably clear things with their management or whoever has to know about a sick boybander. 

“No, ‘m fine”, Louis protests weakly and stands up from the couch he was practically sacked in. “It won’t last more than an hour, right? And judging by rush hour ‘n stuff it doesn’t matter if I’m here and do my job or sit in the car and wait in the traffic.”

He sways a bit while saying this, trying to focus on one point in the room to regain his balance. 

“Louis, seriously”, Zayn starts, also jumping from the couch and grabbing one of Louis’ elbows to steady him as well. 

“I’m fine, Malik. It’s just a cold, I’m not going to die”, Louis protests again and even manages to produce a small smirk on his face. 

He ignores the cold sweat on the back of his neck.

Zayn sighs, long and loud, the one sigh he probably invented only for Louis. But fuck, Louis’ his best friend and he is more than allowed to be worried. Especially when he sees how Louis has actually problems to stand upright without swaying from left to right.

“When is Harry going to be back? We can’t just leave you alone like that”, he mutters, eyeing the sick boy again warily. 

“Zayn, _please_ ”, Louis mumbles back, while Paul jumps in.

“Tomorrow. His flight goes in a few hours.”

And, huh. Louis didn’t even know that.  
“Aaaaand that was it. Brilliant, boys. Thank you so much for your time, it was awesome, as ever. Really lovely meeting you guys, again”, the quirky interviewer shouts at them, when the last picture is finally taken.

“Same”, Louis mutters and with the last bit of his strength, manages to produce a small smile. He just wants to go home and sleep for ever. 

 

“I’m not leaving you alone in this state, Louis, forget it”, Zayn practically yells at him, while Louis mindlessly slips his skinny jeans off and grabs a pair of sweatpants. Zayn has seen him in more awkward situations than just in his boxers and Louis’ glad that he somehow manages to even get dressed again so, kudos for him. 

“Harry’s gonna be back tomorrow, you heard Paul”, Louis sighs, still not sure if he should be happy about that. Like, of course he’s happy that Harry will be back soon but he still a bit sulky about the fact that Harry didn’t tell him first. Especially after the grumpy texts this morning. 

“Still”, Zayn says and crosses his arms in front of his chest. 

“Z, I’m just gonna make some tea and then fall into bed. I appreciate your worries but really, I’m capable of doing this myself. I even manage to cook some soup if I get really desperate.”

“You promise to call if something’s wrong? Pinky promise me, Lou, I’m serious.”

Louis sighs but still slings his pinky around Zayn’s.  
“Sometimes you’re like a four-year-old, seriously, Z. But I promise. And now hush. Don’t want any more calls from Perrie on my mailbox, accusing me that I take too much of your time.”

“She doesn’t do that”, Zayn says. 

Louis just shrugs.

 

The whole making-tea-and-going-into-bed-thing isn’t working. Mostly because Louis possibly spend the last drop of energy while talking to Zayn so after the front door closes, he firstly has to grab the next steady thing, which is luckily the kitchen table, and breathe.

‘Breathing is good. It’s the best, actually. Just keep doing it’, he tells himself and although he kinda promised himself to not text Harry again - because _reasons_ \- he pulls out his phone and somehow starts typing.

_“when r u goin 2 b back exactly?”_

He waits a few minutes, having no idea what time it is in LA anyways and then, without further ado, falls onto the couch. The tea can probably wait.

 

_“not before the day after tomorrow. sorry ‘bout this morning, meetings were horrible the last days.. love you, baby, so happy to see you soon! xxxx H.”_

Okay, so Louis’ head might be a bit dizzy. Or a lot dizzy actually but he still hears Paul’s words in his head. 

_Tomorrow. His flight goes in a few hours._

So why exactly does Harry lie to him? Or is he confused about time zones? Yeah, probably that. Harry would never, like… lie to Louis, would he? Or he’s just meeting someone else and - no. No, no.

_“Paul said ur back 2morrow???”_

_“Back in england, yeah. Nick’s gonna have his party in manchester remember? but i’m coming right after. thought about visiting mum, but miss you too much. how’s home? xxxxx H.”_

And. Great. Louis feels like utter shit and his beloved fiancé got nothing better to do than partying throughout LA and Manchester. Why the fuck not, of course. And Louis’ fuming. He knows that it’s shit, because hey, Harry doesn’t even know how bad Louis’ condition actually is but nevertheless. Harry should go home straight away. To his fiancé. To love him and to comfort him and _fuck_. Now Louis’ actually crying. 

‘I need sleep’, he tells himself.

So he sniffles a few times miserably, ignores his unmade tea once again and just shuffles in his too long sweatpants and his too big jumper, that’s actually Harry’s, into their shared bed, that he has to use alone once again.

He’ not too surprised when he wakes up and feels even worse than ever before.

 

 _“h’s not comin back before 2morrow”_ , Louis sends a few minutes after noon the next day to Zayn, because fuck. He can’t even manage to get some food into his stomach. And he’s not really sure if his stomach would keep the food in it. And, well he knows Zayn, knows that he’s probably already kissing Perrie on her cheek, before he heads towards Louis’ and Harry’s flat. Because if there’s one person - besides Harry of course - who understands most of Louis Tomlinson, it’s probably Zayn. And Louis loves him a little lot for it.

The knowledge that he’s not going to be alone again has seemingly brought some of his long lost energy back, so Louis decides to throw off his blanket and stumble into the kitchen to finally prepare some tea.

He’s nearly reached the kitchen, when the dizziness takes over, now with full force, and forces him down on his knees. The next thing he sees his darkness.

 

_“Baby, Zayn just texted me you’re sick??? How are you?? Do you need anything?? I’m coming right back!! love you so much!!!! xxxxxxxx H.”_

_“Baby can u please answer me? m getting worried. m on my way. love you. xx”_

_“Louis!!!!”_

 

“Calm down, Harry, he’s fine. I called the doctor and she said that he needs rest and lots of tea, water, soup. The usual stuff. So could you please calm the fuck down?! I’m not letting you in like this”, Louis hears the muffled voice of Zayn as the first thing when he wakes up. He’s lying in their bed again, not sure how he came here and questioning when a fucking doctor was here. Was he even awake then? Or did he just stay passed out through all of it?

“Sorry, I’m so sorry. I - I wouldn’t even - and. _Fuck_. Why the hell did no one tell me before?”, Harry’s voice now sinks through the slightly ajar door.

“Haz”, Louis cracks and is more than surprised by his weak voice. What is this fucking cold anyways?!

He hears some shuffling, before the door gets pushed open cautiously and Harry’s head appears. 

“Baby?”, he asks silently and Louis just nods, already feeling tears prickling in his eyes.

“God”, Harry sighs and now fully enters the room, before he cautiously sits down next to Louis and places one of his hands on Louis’ cheek. “My god, baby, you’re hot.”

“Why, thank you, Hazza”, Louis smiles and sniffles. Oh he missed his boy.

“Idiot”, Harry mumbles and shakes his head. “And that you actually are, Lewis. Running through the house alone and doing interviews with a fucking infection. When will your stubborn head finally learn that you have to take care of yourself and are not meant to please everyone else but you in the first place?! You drive me crazy, Lou, really”, Harry rambles, voice still soft and eyes looking so loving that Louis can’t help but smile.

“Is my job to drive you crazy, babes.”

“I’m sorry for being such a shit and not coming home”, his fiancé changes subjects and Louis just shakes his head which - ouch.

He winces, silently, but Harry’s pouty lips tell him that he heard nonetheless. 

“You should get some rest, baby. I’ll get you some food. You need vitamins and lots to drink when you wake up. Get some sleep, baby, okay?”

“Stay”, Louis whines, not really caring that he’s literally sounding like a baby.

And seeing Harry’s blinding smile helps him to keep his embarrassment at bay. 

“Of course, baby, I’m not going anywhere”, Harry mumbles, caressing his cheek once more, before he shuffles next to Louis into the bed, rearranges the blankets on top of them, and the cushion under Louis’ head, before he throws his arms around Louis’ waist and pulls him onto his chest anyways.

“Love you Hazza”, Louis mumbles, sleep already overtaking his exhausted body.

“Love you more, boo”, Harry whispers back and Louis already feels like he’s getting better.

**Author's Note:**

> kudos and comments highly appreciated. 
> 
>  
> 
> [ tumblr n stuff ](http://mirilik.tumblr.com/)


End file.
